


Quiet in the Library

by hellosweetie17



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Death Library, Crushes, Death Books, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Punishment, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosweetie17/pseuds/hellosweetie17
Summary: When a particular section of the Death Library falls prey to an unknown culprit, Ronald Knox is assigned to clean up the mess while under the stern eye of his supervisor and crush, William T. Spears.





	1. Chapter 1

“Grell-senpai...” began Ronald, his tone cautious, “are ya sure we’re supposed to be here?”

He leaned forward and glanced down into the dim alleyway; it was riddled with dirty newspapers and scattered bottles of alcohol, and the occasional feral rat scurrying through puddles. The recently graduated Shinigami straightened up before focusing on his mentor, Grell Sutcliff, who was currently leaning against his chainsaw while he buffed his nails.

“‘Cos I looked in my Death Book,” the blond continued. “And...there aren't any reaps happening here.”

Grell flipped his long, red hair over his shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. We’re not here to collect souls,” he responded, shooing the boy’s worries away with a wave of his manicured hand.

Knox’s eyebrows twitched in confusion with a hint of suspicion. He placed one hand on his hip while the other squeezed the handle of his sickle. “Then what th’ hell are we here for?”

Sutcliff’s red-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, their skull pearls clicking against the stems. Tilting his head, Grell peered over the frames at his young subordinate. “Sweetie, I do believe an attitude adjustment is needed,” he warned. “It doesn't bode well to speak to a lady in such a way.” He flashed a shark-toothed smile, reveling in the sight of Ronald nodding his head, as well as the tiny bead a sweat that dripped from his temple and slid down the side of his face.

The redhead straightened up and lifted his scythe to place the blade on his shoulder. “You and I have been working together for months, my dear,” he remarked. “I know you were at the top of your class and you are quite capable, but I wouldn't be doing my job as a mentor if I didn't test your abilities, now would I?”

“No,” answered Ron with a shake of his head.

“Good,” chirped Sutcliff. “So make sure you stay on your toes, Ronnie. My handsome Willy won’t be happy if things turn sour.”

“Spears-senpai?” Knox wondered aloud. He placed his hand on the back of his head and scratched the black hair nestled beneath the blond while his cheeks bloomed with pale shade of pink. That bashful color drained when a sudden thought dawned on him.

“Wait—he doesn't know we’re here?” he accused, his tone carrying a note of panic.

“Calm down, darling. Everything will be fine!” Grell assured him.

 _“Oh. My. God!”_ howled Ronald. He threw his arms in the air before allowing them to slap against his legs with an audible clap. Luckily he managed to not cut himself with the scythe cradled in his hand. He began to pace back and forth, biting his nails encased within his black gloves.

“He’s going to fire me if I fuck up, Grell-senpai.”

Exhaling an exasperated huff, Sutcliff sauntered over to the younger reaper, whose back was currently facing him. He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder, then whipped him around at a dizzying speed. “He’ll do no such thing!”

“But—”

“Zip it! Imagine how impressed Willy will be after you've slayed your first demon!” beamed Sutcliff. He let out a gleeful squeal and practically bounced on his tiptoes.

An impressive shade of scarlet ignited Ron’s face at the mere thought of his supervisor finally noticing him. That color was, once again, overshadowed by the ghostly pallor of horror washing over it. “How th’ hell do ya know a demon’s gonna be here?!”

 _“Pfft,”_ hissed Grell. “I have my ways! Never underestimate a lady’s charm.” He winked.

“Ya want him to scythe me, dontcha?” Knox whined, his eyes widening behind his thick black glasses.

Grell rolled his eyes. He placed one calming hand against the boy’s cheek and tapped it, knocking his black spectacles slightly askew. “You’re the best trainee I've ever had. I’ll defend you to my death, darling.”

He cleared his throat and dusted the blond reaper’s shoulders. “Now listen up; it’ll be here soon, so you best be ready to make me proud.”

Ronald swallowed thickly, forcing his nerves to settle down. He sucked in a deep breath before exhaling it through his nose. He looked at Grell and nodded.

“That's my boy,” beamed Grell, flashing an affectionate smile. “And if you need me, just shout.”

Before Knox had the opportunity to voice any further thought or worry, the screech of an angry cat and the clatter of glass bottles echoed up from the alley.

Grell laughed and wiggled his hips. “It’s here!” he exclaimed. “Now go get it it, darling,” he added before pushing Ronald from the bakery’s roof. He snorted while he listened to the poor thing yell in surprise as he dropped to the ground. Thankfully his prized trainee landed on his feet, albeit with a hard thud.

“Don’t be shy, Ronnie!” he hollered to the young man. “And don’t you roll your gorgeous eyes at me!”

The sound of his mentor’s enthusiastic voice set Knox’s nerves on fire and he clenched his teeth. Despite the redhead’s comforting intentions, he knew the man was going to get him killed one day. And the fact that he could see the shadow of a demon cast against the brick wall of an adjacent building didn't quell that knowledge in the slightest. The low hissing and growling protruding from its location only added to the scything possibility.

As he slowly walked down the alleyway, Ronald mentally said goodbye to all the partying and drunken, morning-after hangovers that would've been in his future. He even bid adieu to the icily stoic Shinigami he’s had his yellow-green eyes on since the first time they spotted him. But now was not the time to be thinking such things—unless he planned on dying, of course.

Ron halted his footsteps to take a moment to shake everything off so he could move in on the target with clean-cut focus. He was better than his hesitation, nervousness, and worries; he proved it time and time again at the Reaper Academy. The blond practically graduated at the top of his class. He could, and would, pull this off. Or so he hoped.

“C’mon, Knoxie,” he whispered. After giving himself a quick salute of encouragement, he continued onward with his sickle scythe at the ready.

The blond Shinigami cautiously approached the corner, pressing his back against the building’s red brick. Ronald craned his neck to the side, then peeked over his shoulder to look around the corner. At the far end of the alley—which turned out to be a dead end—he caught sight of the demon: it appeared to be no taller than the length from his foot to his knee, with dark scales that reflected a metallic green when the dim light managed to refract from the hardened shell; its protruding tail approximated two feet long, accentuated by a spike at the very tip. Knox equated its appearance to a rather small dragon, save the wings and elongated snout.

Mustering up a new round of courage, Ron moved toward the creature. He flew over trashed boxes and scattered debris, making no sound as he agilely snuck up on the fiend rummaging through the garbage; it seemed ignorant to his presence. Once the boy was mere moments away from being close enough to strike a fatal blow, he threw his arm over his shoulder in preparation to do so, but stopped dead, nearly dropping his scythe in the process.

Through wide eyes he watched as the animal paused in its scrummaging and lifted its head, sniffing around for the new scent. And before Knox had time to react, it whipped around and stared at him with yellow eyes ringed with blood red. Judging by the fangs that were slowly lengthening; the scales curling upward; the tail elongating and its spike sharpening; and the hair raising growl rumbling in its chest, Ron surmised that not only did the creature know why he was there, it knew what he was—a foreknowledge that he naively didn't take into consideration, let alone remember.

Seeing as it was the first demon he’d every come in contact with, Ronald decided it was best for it to make the first move. Spreading his legs apart, he bent his knees and lowered his arm into a fighting stance. Time slowly came to a standstill as he stood there, waiting for the creature to do something other than cock its head to the side and study him with those eerie eyes. Meanwhile, his heart thundered in his chest as the sound of blood rushed in his ears. He swallowed thickly, mentally urging the thing to get a move on. Unfortunately, it seemed to have understood his silent plea.

The creature emitted an ear piercing screech, then lunged at him. Knox swiftly jumped to the side, narrowly escaping the demon’s claws. It rammed into the brick wall, forcing the cement to crack and concave beneath its weight; bits of hard debris trickled to the cobblestone street. The blond observed as it hung there, tilting its head backward and eyeing him upside down, hissing. Ron twisted the scythe’s handle in his hand, tightening his grip on it before the creature lunged again. When it whizzed by him a second time, he managed to simultaneously twist on his heel, swinging his arm to stab it in the back. The demon screamed as it fell to the ground where it laid there, twitching in pain.

Knox cautiously approached it. Figuring that the animal was down for the count, he made a move to end its life. But before he could do so, the demon’s tail whipped around and slapped the back of his knees; the boy buckled forward, his face planting into a collection of shattered glass. The demon took advantage of his vulnerable position by curling its tail around his shins and lifting him in the air, bringing him down with a hard smack to the cobblestone. The impact knocked the air out of him.

Coughing, the Shinigami jumped to his feet after the creature let go of him and scurried away to the far end of the alley. As it cowered in the faint light, its body began to grow.

“Holy shit!” gasped Ronald, equally mesmerized and terrified by the unfolding scene. He quickly backpedaled until he was pressed against the bakery’s building.

“Grell-senpai!” he called while watching the fiend heighten to twice his size. “I think I kinda need ya right about now!” When he received no answer, he chanced a quick peek upward, only to find their previous spot vacant. “Fuck,” he whimpered. “Just _fuck!_ ”

Thoughts on how to proceed whirled through Ronald’s mind as he stared ahead, his eyes following the now pacing, bristling demon. After he settled on his next plan of action, he stepped forward. He didn’t get very far, though. The demon’s tail lashed out in dizzying speeds and it’s sharp spike impaled him, slamming and pinning him to the building by means of his left shoulder. As Knox gasped and cried out in pain, dust found its way into his mouth and crumbling cement fell onto his head. Blinking in and out of consciousness, he barely registered that the demon’s approach was halted by a long pole shooting toward it, thus flinging it backward and clipping its neck in half. He instantly tumbled to the ground after its tail was removed from his body. Through partially closed eyelids, Ron could see a shadow looming over him.

“Oh, honestly,” came a monotone voice, its words cold and aloof. “Where’s Sutcliff?”

“I dunno,” coughed Ron, rolling onto his back.

William pushed up his glasses with the tip of his scythe. “I see that his claims of being an excellent mentor were made in vain. I should've known better than to trust any word that comes out of that mad man’s mouth.”

He glanced down at the blond Shinigami, then nudged his side with one end of the pruning shear. “Get up,” he ordered.

Ronald, who was bruised and bloody, did as he was told, gingerly getting to his feet. He hesitantly looked at his superior, who may or may not have been glaring at him—he couldn't tell. “I-I apologize, sir,” he stammered, flushing from head to toe.

“Return to the Realm and go to the hospital. Once you're clear to leave, report to my office. We’ll discuss your punishment there,” stated William, adjusting his glasses again. “It seems I must track down that nuisance and endure another evening swallowed by overtime and paperwork.”

“Yes, sir,” consented Knox. He stood there, stock still, until he realized that his supervisor was staring at him. He felt his cheeks go up in flames as he saw the faintest twitch in William’s left eyebrow.

Without warning, the end of Spears’ weapon came rushing at him, and he nearly flinched out of fear. But rather than scythe him, William plucked his glasses from his face; his vision immediately blurred. “Sir?”

Seconds later, he heard a sigh and his glasses were returned to their precious spot with excellent precision.

“Pay a visit to Father Anderson. Your frame is severely chipped on the right side,” informed William, peering intently at the boy while he adjusted his own. “You know the importance of a Shinigami’s spectacles. Now go. I’ll meet you in my office.”

Ronald nodded as William turned his back on him and proceeded to head down the alley. Using his scythe, he created and walked through the portal back to Reaper London.

Unbeknownst to him, William had stopped and leered over his shoulder, watching him as he left and continued to do so even after he closed the portal behind him.

* * *

“Oh, darling~!” exclaimed Grell, strolling through the entrance of the mortician’s shop. The door slammed shut behind him, its bell tinkling in response.

He sauntered over to the counter and hopped onto its surface. Sutcliff crossed his legs and pulled out a nail file, then began buffing his red painted manicure.

Hidden within the rafters, the Undertaker swung down; his black liripipe top hat dropped to the floor, his hair cascaded in waves of silver. “Hello, m’lady,” he giggled. “How’d it go?”

The redhead sighed. “You know I love it when dear Willy sees red,” he paused to blow on his nails. “But I’ve given him no choice but to see blond and black, now. He’s only been looking at the poor boy for years.”

“And what about poor little Knoxie?”

“My baby Ronnie will get under his skin, seeing as he’s had his eyes on Willy since his days at the academy. He’s just too intimidated by the man to do anything about it himself.”

“Do you think Chilly Willy will pull that scythe of his out of his butt long enough to make the move?”

Grell smiled the most wicked of sly smiles. “That’s why it's your turn, sweetie.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Ugh!” groaned a freshly cleaned up and bandaged Knox, flopping into the chair. Through blurry eyes he glanced across the table at who he assumed was Father Anderson.

“In a tight spot, are we?” the elder reaper asked. Holding up the blond’s glasses to the bright light, he inspected the fractured section.

Ronald sighed. “Spears-senpai is gonna kill me, Pops.” He slumped in the chair and rested his head on its back, closing his eyes.

“I believe you may be overestimating the man,” offered Lawrence. He set the frames down, then retrieved the items needed before he began to fix them.

“You shoulda seen th’ way he looked at me!” Knox countered, running a hand through his hair. He puffed up his cheeks and exhaled a soft whistle.

“I assume the same way he looks at everyone else,” surmised Anderson with raised eyebrows.

“I’m still done for.”

“If it’s any consolation, Spears always insists that the association is short staffed. He may spare your life in order to prevent any further overtime on his part.”

“That makes me feel loads better,” muttered the younger Shinigami.

The sound of Lawrence’s chuckle resonated before silence settled between the two; it was occasionally interrupted by the telltale noise of the other’s handiwork. As time slowly progressed, Knox felt himself on the brink of sleep. The last visages of consciousness eluded him when he was beckoned with the call of his name. He opened his eyes.

“Here you are,” Anderson said, holding out the repaired frames, which the boy enthusiastically took.

“Thank ya, Pops,” chirped Ronald, putting on his glasses.

“Now take care of these. I won’t be so kind if one of my many masterpieces come to harm again,” the man warned him.

“I will,” promised Knox, nodding his head. “But I’ll see ya later. Gotta head to Mr. Spears’ office.” He gave Father Anderson a tiny salute, which was reciprocated with a gentle wave. Then, he turned on his heel and headed out the elder reaper’s office door.

Ron strolled down the hallway, his white Oxford shoes tapping against the white tiles as he made his way toward the elevator. He passed by couches where fellow reapers were sitting and chatting; murmurs of parties caught his interest. But rather than stop for details, the blond continued onward until the sound of a shrill squeak reached his ears.

“Hi, Ronnie!” a high-pitched voice called. “Are we still on for tonight?”

Knox turned around to find a woman—whose name he never remembered in spite of their numerous dates—standing behind a desk, waving a hand above her head. He flashed her a charming smile, yet made no move to close the distance between he and the girl.

“Ah, sorry. Can’t,” he answered, rubbing the back of his head. “Got into a bind with th’ boss.”

“Oh, no!” the young woman gasped. Worrying her bottom lip, she looked the other up and down, her eyes roving over the bandages on his left hand and the gauze nestled beneath his blond bangs. Suddenly, a hardened scowl appeared. “That mean man didn't do that to you, did he?”

Ronald’s eyebrows twitched in confusion, but before he could comment, the young woman blushed and let out a shy squeak. Following her line of sight, he glanced over his shoulder to find William at the far end of the hall, waiting for the lift with his scythe. He took the distraction as his chance to escape the situation at hand.

“Well, gotta go!” declared Knox. He threw the nameless young woman a flirtatious wink before proceeding toward the elevator; the sound of her besotted giggle was left in his wake.

Though the blond continued on, he found his footsteps faltering as he closed the distance between himself and the elevator—and his supervisor, who had yet to board it. Ronald sucked in a harsh breath of air, held it for five seconds, then slowly exhaled it through his nose. Fisting his hands, which were trembling with nerves, by his sides, he approached until he finally stood beside William; the man made no indication to his presence.

“Thank you for arriving promptly, Mr. Knox.”

At the sound of Spears’ monotone voice, Ronald nearly jumped out of his skin. He instantly reached into the back of his head, running his fingers through the black tresses. “H-hello, sir.”

Pushing up his sleek, charcoal-framed glasses, William shot him a stern look. A pastel pink dusted the tips of Ron’s ears as the elder reaper appraised him, his fierce eyes gliding up and down his body. He was moments away from caving beneath the unreadable stare when the man spoke.

“You're healing quite nicely,” commented Will, in what Ron thought to be a bored tone. He adjusted his spectacles with the press of his finger tips, then turned to face the elevator doors.

Caught off guard by the unusual praise, Ron stood there, blinking with a dumbfounded haze clouding his yellow-green eyes. He was silently grateful that his superior didn't see his mouth open and close in his stunned state. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

“Thanks, Spears-senpai.”

After his voiced appreciation, the lift doors slid open with a ding. Out of the corner of his eye, Knox watched as William swiftly stepped onto it. He stared ahead, knowing he needed to move, but couldn't bring himself to move his lead-ladened legs. That was, he couldn't until he saw the other’s scythe holding the door open. Ron snapped to attention.

“Please quit your dallying. I’m no mood to deal with any further delays,” admonished Spears. “An impressive amount of paperwork is waiting on my desk—for the both of us.”

“Paperwork,” echoed the blond, scurrying into the boxed platform. He made sure to put an acceptable amount of space between himself and the other, who once again, gave the impression that he wasn’t there.

“What did you believe was going to happen to you?” asked William, pressing the ‘up’ button.

Frowning, Knox scratched the back of his head. “To be honest, sir. I thought ya are gonna scythe me,” he answered.

The stoic Shinigami looked at him, his eyebrows lifting; it was the first time Ronald had seen him relay any form of emotion besides boredom and rage. He had to suppress the urge to cross his fingers behind his back, praying to death that his face—and body—would behave after seeing such a rare event.

“We’re understaffed as it is. Why would I jeopardize the situation by, as you say it, ‘scything’, you?” Spears questioned the blond, whose face was flooding with color. Adjusting his glasses, he simultaneously faced forward; the action hid his amused smile.

“Uh…well. Thank ya, sir. I appreciate it,” Knox replied.

Will shot him a look, and upon seeing his subordinate’s bashful, yet playful grin, he was instantly grateful for the cold and aloof mask he perfected over his many years as a reaper. It simply wouldn't do for William T. Spears, Dispatch Supervisor of the Soul Retrieval Division, to blush over such a silly thing.

“There is no need to express any form of gratitude,” he insisted. “I’m only stating factual information.”

The elevator slowed to a stop, its doors opening with a cheerful ding. Without any further remark, the brunet stepped off and marched in the direction of his office with the younger Shinigami in tow.

“Your reaping assignments have been passed on to a fellow employee for the remainder of your punishment,” declared William. “In the meantime, you’ll be completing paperwork until I find a more suitable task for you.”

“What about Grell-senpai? Did ya find him?”

Spears stole a glimpse over his shoulder. “You mustn’t fret over him at the moment. Worry about your own well-being.”

“Ya didn’t kill him, did ya?” joked Ronald.

“No, Mr. Knox, I did not. As I previously stated: we’re short staffed. Even a reaper such as Sutcliff is valuable to the association.”

“Oh…” mumbled the blond, realizing that his attempt to lighten the mood had fallen on deaf ears. He mentally kicked himself for being such a fool.

They walked through the hallways, proceeding in silence until the entrance of William’s office unlocked with a loud click, thereby severing the awkward tension clawing up Ronald’s back. The supervisor opened the door, then stepped aside to allow him to enter. Knox ambled over to his superior’s mahogany desk and sat down on the plain leather chair. As soon as his bottom touched the fabric, he clasped his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles; he casually leaned back to gaze up at the ceiling.

“Comfortable, are we?”

Ron’s head snapped forward. He swiftly straightened his spine, sitting at attention while his elbows dropped onto the arm rests. The annoyed flare glinting in the elder Shinigami’s eyes caused an embarrassing shade of red to cascade over his face and neck.

“Sorry, sir,” mumbled Ron.

The quietest of exasperated sighs blew through William’s nose. He gestured off to the right side of his desk, where lay a large pile of paperwork. He softly cleared his throat. “You will remain here until this pile is complete and returned to my desk. I’ll review it, and if there is a mistake, you’ll correct it.”

“So, does this mean overtime? ‘Cos…” Ron’s words trailed off.

Spears’ eyebrow twitched. “You are in no position to complain about what’s ahead of you, Mr. Knox.” He leaned to the side and pulled the stack over until it sat before him. Pushing up his glasses, Will stared at the young man. “I’m well aware that Sutcliff dragged you into that mess without any foreknowledge on your part and left you there to handle a rather sly demon unsupervised—which, as you know, is against protocol for all junior reapers. Unfortunately, the former detail doesn’t override the latter. It’s truly a pity that you have to be reprimanded for his maniacal whims.”

A humorless and somewhat pathetic huff of air burst through Ronald’s parted lips. “Rules are rules, eh?”

“Precisely,” agreed William with a nod. “Now take these and go to your cubicle. When you're finished, report back to me.”

Standing from the chair, Knox reached across the desk for the files as William simultaneously pushed the items toward him. The synchronized action led to the supervisor’s black-gloved hands to slide over his own. Ronald’s eyes widened and flicked upward, instantly locking with William’s intense gaze. A painful shade of scarlet suffused his cheeks; he wondered if the heat was singeing his blond hair. That vague thought was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his breath quickening. He stood there, rooted to the spot.

The seconds ticked by as they leered at each other. And for a moment, time slowed down; neither dared to break the connection. To his immense surprise, Ronald watched as a light pink hue bloomed on William’s pale cheeks, echoing the red painting his own. He opened his mouth to say something or another, but any pending thought was interrupted by a harsh knock at the door, which was swiftly followed by the sound of it flying open with a resounding bang. Both quickly snatched their hands away.

“Ronnie~!”

Knox whipped around to find Grell standing in the doorway. The redhead sauntered into the room and grabbed him, yanking him into painful hug.

“I've been so worried about you, darling,” cooed Grell. He spun on his heel, dragging his subordinate along with him.

“Grell-senpai,” rasped the blond, nearly choking beneath the other’s strangling embrace. Ron peeked over his mentor’s shoulder at William, who regarded him with an expression of disinterest. His stomach plummeted to the floor.

Squirming, Knox managed to wrangle himself free before taking a step away from Sutcliff. He placed one hand on his jutted hip and raised the other. “Why th’ hell did ya ditch me like that?” he asked, dropping his arm against his thigh with a slap.

“Yes, Sutcliff,” interjected Will. “Please do explain to your underling why you abandoned him. And why are you here when I implicitly assigned you to desk duty?”

With a dramatic flip of his hair, Grell rolled his eyes. “Ronnie was doing just fine on his own. Look at him!” he beamed, gesturing at the boy. He gave Ron a once over, suppressing a cringe at the sight of the bandages and the rapidly healing, yellow bruise on his cheek. He pursed his lips, then peeped at Spears.

“He may be a bit banged up, but he no longer needs his senpai, Willy,” he insisted.

Ron scoffed. “Are ya kidding me!”

William pinched the bridge of his nose. “You're dismissed, Mr. Knox,” he stated. “It seems I must find this excuse of a reaper something else to do.”

“Aw!” pouted Grell. “Must you be so mean, Will?”

“Apparently so. You're incapable of listening otherwise,” replied the brunet, pushing up his spectacles. He focused his attention on Ronald, who was scratching the back of his head.

“Take these files and head to your cubicle. I will send for you at a later time,” said Spears. He pushed the large stack across his desk toward the blond.

Nodding, Knox scrambled for the paperwork and heaved them into his arms. With a respectful salute, he spun on his heel and strolled out of the supervisor’s office. He didn't get far before he heard Grell’s voice. He paused with one foot inches above the floor. Once again, his skin caught fire.

“You better scoop him up before someone else does, Will,” Grell insisted. “Death knows you've been pining after the poor boy long enough. What’s stopping you, darling?”

* * *

The clock hanging on the wall above William’s head was moving at an agonizingly slow pace; the exaggerated ticking grated on his nerves. As he worked on file after file after file, the supervisor lost track of time. Even as the burnt-orange of the sun’s fading light gradually moved across the floor, Spears found himself no closer to being finished with the work laid out before him. Nevertheless, he continued on, determined to avoid another night of overtime.

When the light peeking through the windows’ blinds shifted into a light pink, the supervisor noticed a sound filtering in from the hallway. Sighing, he pushed back his leather chair and stood before stepping around his desk and out into the area filled with cubicles. He walked through the deserted rows toward a particular work space closest to the large window overlooking Shinigami London. William came to a stop in front of Knox’s desk, where he laid there with his cheek pillowed on his arm, sound asleep; soft snores fell from his parted lips, blowing his hair from his face.

The brunet huffed and reached out a hand with the intent to shake the lazy boy awake, but instead found himself tucking back a stray lock of blond hair behind his ear. He repeated the inappropriate and uncharacteristically affectionate action twice more before he heard the frantic sound of shoes clacking against the floor. William turned around to find a young woman speeding toward him.

“Supervisor Spears!” the woman shrieked.

Will pushed up his glasses. “What is the matter, Miss Waters?”

The woman skidded to a stop, her black high heels scraping against the floor. She took a moment to catch her breath. “There’s an issue in the library,” she managed. “I've been sent to notify and collect you.”

William stole a brief glimpse over his shoulder at Ronald, who was still unconscious in spite of the noise. He looked to Waters. “Shall we?” he asked, adjusting his spectacles, yet again.

The two Shinigami proceeded toward the Death Library, a sense of doom settling over William. A voice in the back of his mind told him overtime was in his near future.

* * *

The Dispatch Supervisor stepped into the white marble halls, walking side-by-side with his fellow employee. Their shadows brought on by the sun highlighting the walls swiftly trailed behind them. They continued onward until they stood before a, thankfully, small section of the library. William took in the ruined scene, his eyes roving over the mess of books scattered on the floor and misplaced bookmarks haphazardly thrown about.

After taking a few moments to collect himself, Spears turned his head to the side to address the young woman who led him to the catastrophe. He pushed up his glasses.

“Miss Waters, please send note to Mr. Knox. Tell him to meet me in my office,” he said. He looked back at the disheveled shelves.

“I do believe I found a more suitable form of punishment.”


	3. Chapter 3

William sat at his desk, scrawling his signature across the bottom of another sheet of paperwork when he heard a light tap against his office door. He pushed up his glasses with one hand, while he used the other to fill in the date.

“Yes?” he called.

The door slowly creaked open. William glanced up to find a head full of blond hair poking out from behind it.

“Ya wanted to see me, sir?” inquired Ronald.

“Do come in and have a seat, Mr. Knox,” ordered Spears. He beckoned Ronald toward the chair on the other side his desk, watching as the young reaper sat before him.

William placed his hands on the work table, clasping them together. He inhaled a soft rush of air, then exhaled through his nose. The supervisor stared at the blond.

“A room in the Death Library was destroyed overnight,” he stated. “I do believe I know who the culprit is, and thus the act is a silly prank meant to cause me trouble. Nevertheless, you’ll be cleaning it up, Mr. Knox.”

“Wait,” requested Ronald, his brow furrowing, “someone fucked up th’ Library?” Taking note of his superior’s disapproving look, a light blush dusted the tips of his ears. “Sorry for th’ language, sir.”

Sighing, William pushed up his spectacles. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Knox, but please exercise more appropriate language in the future—especially in the presence of the Higher Ups.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “the assignment shouldn’t take too much time seeing as it’s in one of the smaller rooms located in the East Wing.”

“I guess that’s a plus, eh?” surmised Knox. “‘Cos I doubt ya want overtime.”

“Precisely,” agreed the brunet. Will stood from his desk and grabbed his scythe, using it to push up his glasses before reaching for a pile of folders, tucking them neatly in his arm.

“Now, if you’ll assist me in carrying that stack of paperwork, we shall head to the Library.”

The blond got up from the chair and reached for the second collection of forms. Ronald held them against his chest and gazed at the elder Shinigami as he spoke, “Will I be filling out paperwork, too?”

“Your task is simply to clean,” clarified Spears. Using the far end of his scythe, he pushed the leather chair beneath his desk, then proceeded to head out his office door; Ronald trailed quickly behind.

“I, on the other hand, will be overseeing your progress,” he added with a soft sigh, his eyes rolling behind his glasses.

Knox picked up the pace, his white oxfords clicking against the floor as he hurried after the other; he knew it wouldn’t bode well for him if he slacked off during this assignment. He wasn’t keen on the idea of additional overtime and whatever else that may bring considering the supervisor’s mood.

Once he fell into step with William, who acknowledged him with a sidelong glance, he asked, “With all due respect, sir, but why you?”

“Apparently, the Higher Ups believe I’m the only suitable figure to ensure you finish the task properly.” William huffed out a muted “honestly,” and Ronald had to suppress a grin.

“They’re right, Spears-senpai,” agreed Ron. “Ya are good at your job.”

“Thank you, Mr. Knox. But that’s enough chit-chat,” William told him. “Let us work proficiently as to avoid another late night.”

Flashing a dazzling smile, Ronald let out a soft laugh. “Ya got that right, sir.”

The rest of their journey was shrouded in silence;  
the only sounds that could be heard were the chatter of fellow reapers, the dings of the lifts, as well as keyboards clacking beneath nimble fingers. After they walked out the doors of Dispatch, the noises behind them disappeared and were replaced by impeccable silence within the looming white halls of the Death Library. Before Ronald knew it, they were strolling into the room where he’d be stationed for the next few hours. He nearly dropped the pile of folders in his arms onto the carpeted floor.

“Holy shit!” he blurted out. His yellow-green gaze roved over the room, his wide eyes taking in the Death Bookmarks strewn about to the books tossed haphazardly from place to place. Knox looked over at William, his mouth agape.

A sigh blew through the brunet’s pursed lips. “Crass words or not, I believe that they do, indeed, adequately describe the matter at hand.”

“Why would anyone…?” Ronald’s words trailed off into a tiny squeak. He scanned the room again, and a sense of dread washed over him. “And I have to clean it.”

“It’s quite a bit of work,” acknowledged Spears—and Knox believed that was a massive understatement—“but it’s not too daunting of a task; I’m confident that you’ll finish it quickly.”

Without another word, the two reapers ambled further into the room, passing through aisles of disheveled items until they stopped by a desk with a single chair and computer.

William propped his scythe next to the leather chair and set the files on the desk next to an inkwell and pen set. He turned toward Ronald; the corner of his mouth faintly twitched at the other’s pale face.

“I shall have a quick word with the secretary,” he said. “It wouldn’t do to be interrupted.”

Wallowing in well-earned shock, the blond swallowed thickly. “I’ll uh...get started right away, sir.”

“Very prompt of you, Mr. Knox.”

Ronald put the rest of the paperwork on the desk, then grinned with a two finger salute, all the while silently cursing whoever the hell had destroyed the place. Once he received a dismissing nod from his elder, Knox chose a random aisle and strolled toward it, dropping down to the floor at the first stack of books he saw.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

After what seemed to be hours—which turned out to only be two—Ronald grumbled at the black and pink bookmark that had given him a rather nasty papercut. Glowering, he sucked on the wound, feeling the cut rapidly heal against his tongue. He exhaled a frustrated sigh and tossed the item into a box settled next to his knee. Thankfully, it was the last bookmark—much to his disgruntled delight.

Knox pushed himself from the floor and dusted off his trousers before turning toward his supervisor, whose nose was buried in paperwork while one dark eyebrow impatiently twitched every so often. Apparently, he had been staring, if the sound of William’s voice had any say in the matter.

“Spears-senpai?” questioned Ronald. He could literally feel the annoyed glare behind the other’s glasses.

“Are you finished with the bookmarks?” repeated the supervisor.

“I am, sir,” replied Ronald. Leaning downward, he lifted up the box and made his way over to William. He placed it on the man’s rented desk.

“At least they appear to be in tact,” the brunet commented, quickly and proficiently checking the accessories. Spears heard a soft yawn from above and he stared at Ronald, who was looking at him with a peculiar glint in his eyes. William pushed up his glasses.

“I trust you know where these belong?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nodding, William reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out his watch. He clicked it open, taking note of the time. The brunet sighed.

“Put these away and then you may take a break,” he stated, turning his attention to Knox. “Take this time to buy coffee, food, or simply stretch your legs. But do not get distracted; there’s still plenty of work to do.”

Ronald scratched the back of his head and shyly gazed at Spears. “Would ya like some coffee, too?”

A dark eyebrow lifted in surprise. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Knox. Black, please.”

“Food?”

“Coffee will suffice.”

The corners of Ronald’s mouth tugged into a frown. “We’ve been here for a while. Ya have to be hungry, sir. So whaddya like?” he asked. “My treat.”

“I assure you: I’m fine. There’s no need to fret,” insisted William. He picked a new file from the stack to his left and opened it before placing it in front of him. “Now hurry along.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Knox. He picked up the box filled with the collected Death Bookmarks and scurried down the aisle to put them back in their appropriate storage area.

When he turned the corner of said aisle, Ronald took a final glance over his shoulder. His cheeks instantly flushed a bright pink. The color was reflected on William’s pale skin when the man realized he’d been caught. The supervisor swiftly resumed his work. Knox watched him for a few moments before leaving the room.

* * *

With two cups of coffee and a paper bag in tow, Ronald made his way toward the room, strolling through the maze of white marble halls as he passed by fellow reapers shelving records. He turned a wide corner into the East Wing and collided with another person.

“Darling~!” squealed Grell. He yanked the blond reaper into a bone-crushing hug. Thankfully, Knox managed to keep hold of his purchases while his mentor whirled him around.

“Hey, Grell-senpai,” Ronald mumbled into the other’s red hair. His breath caused the long tendrils to flutter, thereby tickling his nose; he barely suppressed the sneeze threatening to make itself known. Knox scrunched his nose in an attempt to scratch away the itch.

After practically choking the poor boy into a second death, Sutcliff released him and held him at arm’s length. He scanned the other up and down. “Willy isn’t working you too hard, is he?”

“Nah,” replied Knox. “He’s just filling out paperwork while I clean up.” Deftly holding the styrofoam cups in one hand, he slid the paper bag under his arm. “He doesn’t say much.”

“What’s that, Ronnie?” asked Grell, his eyes zeroing in on the package.

Without warning, the redhead snatched the bag from Knox’s grasp and opened it up. He looked inside, and a sly smile spread across his face. His eyes flicked up to Ronald, his gaze sparkling with mischief.

“This is a lot of food—even for you, sweetie.”

“Well, I figured Spears-senpai would like some since he’s stuck with me,” explained Ron as he bashfully rubbed the back of his burning neck.

A slow shark-tooth grin flashed before his eyes, and Ronald heard alarm bells ringing in his ears. He gulped.

“That’s so sweet of you to do this for that gorgeous grumpy old man!” exclaimed Sutcliff. Slowly, he took a step toward his trainee. “You don’t happen to have...a crush on him, do you Ronnie?”

The blond Shinigami’s cheeks burst with color and billowing stacks of steam emanated from his heated skin. “N-no!” he sputtered. “I don’t have—it’s nothin’!” The cups of coffee fumbled in his hands; the hot brew sloshed against their sides and seeped onto the lids.

Smirking, Grell leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Give him a run for his money, darling. He’s only been waiting for you, after all.”

Ronald’s yellow-green eyes widened behind his bulky black frames and he let out a hushed maniacal laugh. He took a step back. He wasn’t proud of the slight hitch in his voice.

“Well, gotta go. Nice seein’ ya, senpai. Enjoy your day!”

And with that, he flew down the halls, but not before he heard Grell’s parting words echoing off the Library’s walls. Ronald nearly melted on the spot.

“Give Willy a kiss for me~!”

Before he could do anything resembling a disappearing act, the blond found himself standing next to William’s temporary desk. Luckily, it was unoccupied, free of paperwork and pens. The sight elicited a sense of relief along with a douse of disappointment at the thought that perhaps his superior had left for the day. Nevertheless, a red-faced Ronald placed the two cups of coffee on the desk and tossed the bag next to the drinks.

Figuring it was best for his sanity if he headed back to his assigned work, Knox whipped around and made a move to leave, but he, once again, crashed into another reaper. This time he stumbled; he was steadied by the firm grip on his shoulders. Ronald was wholly aware as to who it was, and his skin burned beneath the man’s touch. Swallowing thickly, he looked up at the Dispatch Supervisor.

“Are you alright, Mr. Knox?”

Ronald’s eyes darted back and forth while he stared at William, his cheeks warming, his heart hammering, and his stomach erupting with butterflies.

_“Give him a run for his money, darling.”_

Knox quietly cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he insisted with a bright smile. “Sorry for not watching where I was going, Spears-senpai.”

“Are you sure?” asked William. He subconsciously squeezed the young man’s shoulders, and Ronald wished someone would put him out of his misery. “It wouldn’t do either of us any good if you’re unable to work at your best.”

“I’m okay—promise!”

Little did the elder reaper know, Ronald was the furthest thing from his white lie. It didn’t help that he almost acted on his mentor’s teasing order. A part of him wish he had before William let his arms go.

_“Give Willy a kiss for me~!”_

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

With a small stack of books tucked into his arm, Knox made his way up a ladder and began filing away the items on the top shelf; the ladder creaked beneath his weight each time he moved.

“Hey, Spears-senpai,” he called, placing the last Death Book from his collection onto the shelf. Ronald wrapped his hands around the ladder’s rails and slid to the floor. Turning on his heel, the blond faced his supervisor and took in the sight of the man working through another pile of paperwork.

“Are any of these reaps yours?”

William heaved a sigh and pushed up his glasses, his eyes trained on the sheet before him. “Yes, there are a few in this section of the library. It was quite a busy year for me.”

“Did ya have any exciting assignments before ya became supervisor?”

“Collecting souls is a job, Mr. Knox. It’s not meant to be enjoyable nor exciting.”

Frowning, Ronald’s cheeks blossomed with color under the elder reaper’s scolding. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That’s not what I…”

He bit the inside of his cheek when he noticed William’s disinterested and automatic movements; the robotic actions were focused on a singular task without regard to their surroundings. Ron checked a sigh. He made a move to head toward another aisle of misplaced books, but his foot halted mid-air when the surprisingly loud sound of someone clearing their throat reached his ears. Ronald glanced over his shoulder to find Spears staring at him; the man’s expression was neutral and demeanor aloof. Knox turned around and leaned against a shelf.

“Sir?”

With a press of his fingers, William pushed up his glasses and spoke, “There were an abundance of demons during my time as an agent, many of which hadn’t the desire to consume souls, but instead aimed to kill Shinigami by manipulating the cinematic records.”

“And that made them hostile,” offered Ronald.

“Correct.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the blond saw a small wooden step stool stationed across from where he stood. He strolled toward it and sat down, placing his elbow on his knee and cradling his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Why would they make th’ records hostile instead of consuming th’ souls?” he asked.

“Amusement, I suppose,” surmised Spears. “We are one of their enemies, after all.”

“Were you ever attacked?”

“They were foolish instances on my part,” admitted William, adjusting his spectacles again. “But I used those failures to learn and excel in our occupation.”

William picked up his pen and turned his attention to the paperwork spread before him. He kept his gaze zeroed in on the sheets as he added, “Always be on your guard when you’re out in the field, Mr. Knox. I fathom the idea of you coming to harm and falling victim during an altercation with a demon.”

A light pink bloomed on Ronald’s cheeks. Though he suspected that the supervisor hadn’t realized what he said, it didn’t stop the surprise the blond felt at the man’s nonchalant words. Chewing on his lower lip, Knox stood from his makeshift seat and retrieved another pile of books so he could resume his assignment. As he strolled down the row to another aisle of shelves, Ron began to wonder if he was actually seeing what Grell insisted was there all along while neither he nor William were looking.

* * *

Soft snores made their way toward William; he exhaled a huff at the sound. He stood from the chair (which was quite uncomfortable) and grabbed his scythe before heading in the direction of an undoubtedly sleeping Ronald Knox. Spears spotted the young shinigami two rows down sitting on the floor, propped up against a shelf with one book tucked in his arm, his head tilted to the side. Will pointed his scythe at the blond and was prepared to eject it in order to clock him in the head, but stopped when a young woman with brown hair appeared.

Crouching down, the brunette reached out and tucked a wayward strand of blond hair behind Ronald’s ear. She settled her hand on his shoulder and shook it.

“Ronnie!” she called, shaking his shoulder again. Ronald awoke with a snort.

Knox pushed himself upright and let out a yawn. He glanced at the woman, whose eyes were sparkling. Blinking away the drowsy haze, he muttered, “Hey…?”

Smiling, she tutted, “It’s Melanie, sleepy head!”

“Sorry,” apologized Ronald, running a hand through his untidy hair; it flopped against his forehead as soon as it was freed. “It’s been a long day.”

“No worries, love,” Melanie assured him. She picked up the styrofoam cup she had placed by her foot and passed it to Ronald; wisps of steam wafted from its lid, the coffee’s scent tickling his nose.

“I brought this for you.”

Grinning around the rim of cup, Knox took a deep sip of the warm brew.

The blond murmured something that was unintelligible to William’s ears, which he found oddly annoying. In addition to that unsuspected emotion in regard to the moment, Spears was astounded to feel an ugly surge of jealousy curling in his gut as he watched the scene before him. The irrational part of himself that was usually kept under lock and key urged William to step forward and separate the two reapers, but he remained where he stood; it wasn’t his place to interfere, no matter how much Spears dearly wished it to be—another shock to the cold and aloof man.

Fed up with the ridiculous display, the supervisor exhaled a harsh breath through his nose and turned away, but stopped at the sound of Knox’s voice. Although he was a respectful man who prided himself on his impeccable manners, William ignored them by peeking around the corner. He made a mental note to scold himself later for the intrusion.

With a groan, Ron stood and stretched his arms above his head, then let his arms drop to his sides. “Is th’ coffee station still around?” he asked through another yawn.

“I think so,” Melanie answered. She followed suit and smoothed out her skirt before adding a question of her own. “Would you like me to fetch you something else?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he replied. Knox bent over and picked up his cup. “I should get Spears-senpai some coffee.”

“Why?”

Ron cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing as he took in Melanie’s expression: suspicion with a touch of annoyed frustration was writ as clear as day on her face. Sighing, Ronald pushed back the blond fringe from his forehead.

“Ya know, both me and senpai will be busy for th’ rest of th’ day. Maybe ya should go; it’ll probably get boring just waiting around.”

His response came in the form of a sweet smile accompanied by Melanie’s fingers drumming a cheerful beat on his chest.

“Would you like to do anything later?” she asked. “After you’re finished working.”

A placating smile quirked the corner of Ron’s mouth and he scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“Because?” prompted the young woman. Her bottom lip protruded in a pout when she didn’t receive an immediate response. “You don’t have your eye on someone else, do you Ronnie?”

The tips of Knox’s ears brightened a light pink and his ever present suave confidence eluded him.

“I’m gonna go get that coffee,” he blurted out. Ron held up his own drink and used it to toss Melanie a mock salute before rushing out of the room.

There was a possibility that William had developed some sort of personality disorder due to his strenuous workload and lack of sleep, because he could’ve sworn that Ronald had actually ran away from the situation he was previously caught up in. Nevertheless, William adjusted his glasses and returned to his desk. He placed his scythe against its edge after he sat and resumed his task. The supervisor wasn’t quite able to focus on the paperwork, though. And just when he managed to fill out the date, a white styrofoam cup caught his attention. Spears glanced up into a pair of luminous green eyes behind bulky black frames, and he was graced with a charming, albeit shy, grin.

“I figured ya could use some,” surmised Ron.

William reached out for the proffered cup and, once again, his hand slid over the younger reaper’s. But rather than freeze and pull away, the supervisor watched Ronald’s smile grow.

“Thank you, Mr. Knox,” responded Will. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Don’t mention it, Spears-senpai.”

With a wink William wasn’t sure the blond had done intentionally, Knox spun on his heel and made his way toward the last disheveled aisle. William was thankful that he had managed to suppress the warmth threatening to infuse his pale cheeks as he watched Ron walk away.

* * *

The sun was setting, its orange and pink light cascading along the white walls as William completed the last of his paperwork. He placed the sheets in the Manila folder and snapped it closed with a relieved sigh. Spears reached into his waistcoat and pulled out his pocket watch, clicking it open—he managed to avoid overtime. With the faintest of pleased smiles, William put his timepiece back into its proper pocket and stood. He stepped around the desk, then made his way to Ronald.

As he weaved between the aisles, the supervisor gave each one a quick appraisal: they were neatly organized and every Death Book was placed in its proper place. William silently praised Ron’s proficiency when his work wasn’t hindered by a certain redhead. He continued his inspection until he reached the last row. Just as Spears turned the corner, he heard a loud shout.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Ronald, the last of the books cradled in his arms tumbling to the floor. He scrambled down the ladder.

“Mr. Knox?” came the sound of his supervisor’s deep monotone voice. Ron’s head snapped up to find William approaching him.

“Oh!” he squeaked. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to drop them; they just slipped. Anyway, once these are shelved, I’ll be done.”

He picked up the items and stood, then shuffled back up the ladder to the top-most shelf. As Ron began putting each record away, he felt William stop by his side, his eyes boring into him. He swallowed thickly.

“There’s no need to rush, Mr. Knox,” said William, and Ron was surprised to hear such a thing from the man.

“Yeah, you’re right, sir.” Ron glanced down at his superior with a smile. “I take it no overtime?”

William nodded. “Indeed. I commend your hard work; you’ve done an exceptional job.”

A nervous chuckle flew past Ronald’s lips. “Thanks, senpai.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

After William spoke, Knox placed the final Death Book on the shelf. He let out a soft whoop. “All finished.”

Wrapping his fingers around the ladder’s rails, Ron pressed his inner feet against them and proceeded to slide down. He was mere feet from the floor when one foot gracelessly slipped, much to his embarrassment.

“Mr. Knox—!”

And he fell right into William’s arms, landing chest to chest. Both let out a grunt upon impact, and Ron’s cheeks darkened a scarlet red when he felt William’s mouth brush along his own, the man’s breath fluttering against his lips.

“S-Spears-senpai,” he sputtered, “I…” Knox’s words trailed off as he peered at William, who was regarding him with a stern, yet gentle, look.

Without warning, William’s hand hooked around the back of his neck and yanked him into a kiss. Ronald inhaled a sharp gasp, his bemused eyes fluttering shut. He reached up and curled his fingers into Spears’ lapel, pulling the man flush against his body. Will took the opportunity to push him backward until he slammed into the shelf, crowding him; the force sent the books tumbling from their spots onto the carpet with loud thumps. Ronald paid the sounds no mind. It was hard to do so when William broke the kiss and ran his lips down Ronald’s neck, worshipping it as the fingers of one hand dug into his hip while the other threaded through his black hair. Knox let loose a soft moan when William’s knee found its way between his thighs.

“Spears-sen—“

Whatever words Ron had planned to say were swallowed by William when the man captured his mouth again, drinking in the wanton groans spilling from his lips. Knox pulled away with a shuddering cry after William grinded his knee against the growing bulge in his black trousers. The man did it again and again until Ron couldn’t help but squirm and gasp. Goosebumps rippled across his heated skin and pleasure tore through every nerve and muscle with each press into his arousal.

Ronald barely heard Spears’ quiet question muttering in his ear as the brunet continued his ministrations.

“Y-yes,” he gasped with an enthusiastic nod.

With his consent, William hooked his hands beneath Ronald’s thighs and lifted him up, wrapping his legs around his waist. Ron’s arms wound their way around the other’s neck, his fingers clutching the nape of Will’s hair.

It didn’t take long for Ronald’s clothing to drop onto the floor, thrown into a heap next to William’s suit. And before he knew it, Ron was settling over William’s length, riding the man with his head thrown back, and coming with a choked cry of William’s name on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

Laying in Undertaker’s lap, Grell sighed, closing his eyes while the mortician played with his long red hair, twirling the strands in-between his pale fingers.

“Sooo…” began Undertaker. “How’d we do?”

Grell flashed a shark-toothed, mischievous smile. “We did fine, darling. I knew that annoying little tart who always follows Ronnie around would push my boys together.”

Undertaker leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss onto the redhead’s forehead. “I must say, m’lady, you’re pretty good at this matchmaking business.”

“Of course I am, sweetie,” Grell giggled. “How do you think I managed to snatch up a handsome man like you?” Sitting up, he turned and wrapped his arms around the mortician’s neck.

“And if they’re anything like us, they won’t be able to keep their hands off of each other!”

Undertakers eyebrows shot up beneath his silver bangs. “Well then,” he hummed, “it seems like we have a bit of a competition on our hands, eh?”

A sultry smirk lit up Grell’s face, his eyes twinkling with need. “Race you to the bedroom, darling?”

“Only if you wear that red lacy thingie.”

“Deal!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The End**


End file.
